


Tenderly

by Zigzagwanderer



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Come Eating, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hux is Kinky, It's the Bag of Cherries I Feel Sorry For, Kylux - Freeform, Masturbation, Misuse of a Cinema, Public Hand Jobs, Ren is Shy, Some Angst and Negotiation, but then he isn't, mentions of bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24114220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zigzagwanderer/pseuds/Zigzagwanderer
Summary: Part of the series where Ren was once Lord Hux's butler and on-off lover. Now they're trying to make a life together in 1940's London, and explore a few things along the way............Thanks to anybody who reads it! If you liked it try some of my other "Tigger" Hux fics!! Comments are cool!!
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 33
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

London was dirty and hot, and the sly old hand of the sun inched beneath the striped skirts of the shop front awnings, pawing at the offal in the butcher’s window and the bosomy, goose-bumped oranges. 

There was nobody anywhere. 

Ren scuffed his shoes on the kerbstone and pictured the damp cityfolk like so many snails, sucking themselves back into their tea-swamped parlours. 

He struggled with his soaked collar, and Hux caught him at it as he wandered triumphantly out of the greengrocer’s. 

“Here, let me,” he hooked his cane over Ren’s shoulder and pulled him nearer, like some handsome music hall Romeo. “Lovely as your throat is, even you must allow that undoing _one button_ cannot conceivably cause a scandal.”

Ren politely held Hux’s prize; the scent from the fruit was ripe, and sinful. “These are too expensive.”

“But you adore them.” 

Hux took a full, slow minute to open Ren up and settle the worn fabric to his liking, his fingers straying from where they should be to where they shouldn’t. 

Ren became predictably restless.

“Armitage,” he warned softly, watching Hux drop his lower lip in concentration. The inside of his mouth glistened.

“What?” His lordship replied, innocently shady in his terribly un-English sunglasses. “A gentleman must appear presentable, even in a desert.” 

“A gentleman?” Ren flushed, thinking of how he’d had Hux that very morning, rough and hungry. “Is that what I am?”

“No.” Hux paused, forgetting to flirt. “I rather think that you’re the oasis.”

They were so close that the fruit was getting crushed between them, their hands held helplessly together, under the weight of it all.

“Careful of your cherries.” Ren felt desire begin to lick again, between his legs. It was ridiculous. 

He allowed himself to run a fingertip just under the cuff of Hux’s jacket, smoothing at the skin. Over the years he’d been used to even less, but somehow, _now_ , it was hardly enough. 

“No matter,” Hux winced. “What’s a little bruising between friends, eh?”

Ren frowned.

He looked down and saw how Hux’s wrist was banded red. 

“Did I cause this?”

It had taken a long time for Ren to be persuaded into such adventures. He still had doubts, but they had been made dumb by the dawning pleasure on Hux’s face as Ren had summoned up the courage to tie the very first knot. 

He’d never seen Hux more undone. 

“Did I do it wrong? Too tight, or..?” Ren clenched a fist. “Did I…did I hurt you?”

“With a few silk cravats? I should hardly think so, my darling.” Hux scoffed, sweetly. He had the landed gentry’s habit of not lowering his voice at all. “And anyway, in some ways that’s the best part. The reminders. Stiffness, soreness, whatnot. When you’ve really fucked me, the feeling of it stays inside me all day, Ky. It’s a comfort, do you see? To be owned like that. Between times.”

Once, _between times_ was all that they had. It was hard to believe they were finally at the point where they could grumble over who should change the sheets, or go and put on the kettle. 

Ren stood there, rubbed to a flame between fear and arousal and shame. But that was Hux’s way, not his, and he stepped backwards and began to walk towards the cinema. 

“Kylo,” Hux called, “it’s really quite alright.”

Ren slowed but did not stop. 

There wasn’t a queue for the matinee; the place would be a sweatbox.

Ren could hear Hux curse and then follow, the tap of his walking stick more pronounced than usual, perhaps because of the summer’s heat on Hux’s war wound, perhaps because Ren had not only screwed him until feathers had flown out of the mattress, but had also used the flat of his palm to slap Hux’s arse until it _glowed _.__

__“Kylo…”_ _

__“Let’s just wait in the lobby.”_ _

__Hux nodded and gently touched Ren's elbow. The cherries were sour._ _

__The worst of it was that Ren had thoroughly enjoyed it all._ _


	2. Chapter 2

Hux bought them lemonades from a beaming usherette. 

The only other people were a matched pair in the front row. The wife’s plumed hat alone upset their respectable symmetry. 

Hux followed Ren to the farthest corner. 

“Ky?” He tapped his cigarette case open, but then denied himself a smoke. “You know I much prefer honey on my bread.”

Ren put one leg out in the aisle, but even then he felt like an oak tree trying to fold itself back inside an acorn cup. 

“Yes.”

Hux, of course, ensconced himself _effortlessly_. 

“Well, I mean to say you’ve never once bullied me into having jam, even when the bloody bees were playing up that one year.” Hux took Ren’s hand in the dark. “I am most awfully sorry, sweetheart. I won’t ask for _that_ again.” 

The film began. Hux crossed his legs. 

Ren looked at the tight pull of tweed against the damaged muscle of Hux’s calf. When he pulled Hux’s leg up high, when he was deep inside, blissful, and at peace, the place where the surgeon had cut out the shrapnel fitted perfectly against Ren’s shoulder. 

It was _every_ part of Hux that suited him, all of the chasms and all of the peaks. Without Hux, life would be nothing but tundra. 

He shifted in his narrow seat. He thought of silk rope and candle wax. 

“I would want to look after you properly. _Afterwards_ ,” he said, perhaps too loudly. “Next time.” 

Hux spilled his drink. Ren ate a cherry out of embarrassment. 

“My darling, you really don’t have to, just because…”

“I want you like that.” It was difficult to speak such imperatives softly, so Ren put his hand onto Hux’s splashed knee. “I want you in all sorts of ways,” he whispered. “I want you _now_.” 

He pushed his fist all the way into the hollow of Hux’s lap, knuckling Hux through the fabric. 

“ _Christ in Heaven_ , Ren…” 

At this rate, Hux would have no lemonade left at all.

Ren swallowed. “Can you undo your trousers?” 

Hux did more than that; he drew up his jacket a little around them and got his cock out. He was gratifyingly hard. 

“Lick your fingers, then.” Hux had the better voice for instruction; even breathless he sounded as if he expected to be obeyed. “Wet me, and be quick about it.”

Ren did more than that; he stroked Hux with a spume of cherry-scented spit until Hux began to claw discreetly at the armrest. 

“Christ, my darling. Keep going, for God’s sake.” He looked lovely, trying to pant delicately and with his hair falling across his eyes. “Christ. You complete angel. You’ll have me over in a minute.” 

Ren did not stop; he could not. He felt at once intensely powerful and stupidly unprepared. 

It had hardly been anything at all, just a clumsy tug or two, and Hux was already at his end.

There was a handkerchief in his back pocket, but that was no good, so Ren used the crumpled paper bag to catch most of the mess. 

It was the dirtiest, most wonderful thing he had ever seen in his life. 

He waited until Hux had stopped blinking rapidly at him, and then very deliberately ate another cherry. Then licked his lips.

“Kylo.” Hux managed, eventually, _admiringly,_ “I never thought…”

“If you’re brave about things you like, then I can be too.” Ren took a sip of lemonade and was sorry that it took the taste of Armitage away. He was desperately aroused but he banked it, for there was desire to be had, even in discomfort. “So, maybe tomorrow we could try out the British Museum?”


End file.
